


After Marmora

by midnightwaterlily33



Series: Damian's VLD Whumpmas 2017 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Injury, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Injury, Open to Interpretation, Post-Episode: s02e08 The Blade of Marmora, Protective Shiro (Voltron), Self-Indulgent, Whump, platonic or romantic, vldwhumpmas2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 09:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13097016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightwaterlily33/pseuds/midnightwaterlily33
Summary: And then, Shiro came. Shiro came back for him; literally hauled him off the ground.He’d been barely holding onto consciousness when he awakened the blade.Everything after that, was when it became especially blurry.He’d barely been able to keep his grip on the blade after it transformed. It shook in his hands, and his vision was growing black spots when he heard Kolivan say, “The only way this is possible is if Galra blood runs through your veins.”AKA: the overdone post-blade of marmora fic that i needed for my sanity and my own self-indulgence





	After Marmora

**Author's Note:**

> I just… I STILL have so many feelings about S2 E8 and Keith getting the stuffing kicked out of him at the Blade headquarters. Because they just cut to everyone at the castle like nothing had happened. Keith doesn’t even look beat-up anymore when he and Shiro return. Everyone just starts introducing Antok and Kolivan and they start talking about defeating Zarkon. (Which don’t get me wrong, is super important, but wouldn’t Keith be like, exhausted and in pain still?) 
> 
> This was written for VLD Whumpmas on Tumblr! You can find me at all-the-hurt.tumblr.com

Everything had been such a blur.

Keith remembers being crumpled down on the cold metal floor, somewhere inside the blade of Marmora headquarters. At that point, his consciousness drifted in and out, his head pounding, the lacerations littering his body stinging and throbbing. He’d tried to push himself up from the ground, but his body trembled too violently.

He’d watched Shiro walk away from him. Left him there.

At that point, he’d resigned himself to lying there until the Blade members came in and dragged him off to be prisoner or killed him or something.

It was that, or Shiro would come back for him.

Then he was jostled out of his unconsciousness by the deafening rumble that he later learned was Red attacking the base. The roof started to cave in over him.

And then, Shiro came. Shiro came back for him; literally hauled him off the ground.

He’d been barely holding onto consciousness when he awakened the blade.

Everything after that, was when it became especially blurry.

He’d barely been able to keep his grip on the blade after it transformed. It shook in his hands, and his vision was growing black spots when he heard Kolivan say, “The only way this is possible is if Galra blood runs through your veins.”

His knees crumpled beneath him again after that. Shiro appeared at his side in an instant, held him upright like he was helpless. The Blade members seemed to be standing down, but Shiro was urging him in a serious tone right beside him.

“Keith, you did well. It’s okay now. But can you connect with the Red Lion now? Tell her you’re safe. She’s attacking the base.”

He’d passed out after that.

From there, Keith gathered very little until the moment Shiro practically dragged him into the red lion, not at the time aware of the Blade leaders trailing silently behind.

He later learned that Shiro had demanded that they stand down and apparently had to drag Keith off to bind the worst of his wounds and literally help him out of the alien suit and into his armor.

 

Keith had kept it together the entire way home in red, even spoke to everyone on their short transmission and played it off fine. Shiro told him as they exited that he was proud of him for that, and it made him feel childish and even worse.

Now, as they stand in the control room, Keith is bracing himself against the wall to keep himself upright. No one seems to notice this, nor that the haphazardly wrapped bandage on his shoulder has slipped off and his suit is slowly filling up with the sticky warmth of blood from his shoulder.

But of course it’s then that Shiro comes in to politely interject, after their introductions, that before anything could begin, Keith needs the infirmary.

He instant feels his body seize up with nerves and chagrin. Keith murmurs, “I’m fine.” He isn’t so weak that he’ll hold up their first meeting with the Blades and their battle plans for _actually taking down Zarkon._ But then, Shiro barely catches him in time once more as his knees suddenly buckle under his weight.

Keith tries to protest, but he’s picked up by Shiro, headed for the infirmary, and suddenly everyone’s panicking.

The whole team follows them with a flurry of questions and panic, demanding to know why Keith is hurt.

He tries, oh god, he tries to protest and to explain, but he’s suddenly so dizzy with pain he can’t answer. He wants to be angry, he wants to be defiant and strong, but he hears Shiro giving half-hearted responses around, and feels himself being seated down, and Shiro’s helping Coran tug off his chest plates and clean some wounds.

Keith’s overwhelmed, everyone’s talking at once from every angle, and he can’t understand why now all of a sudden he’s collapsed and weak and in pain. He _hates_ this.

Allura is demanding to know more about the identities of the Blade members and what exactly went on while they were there. Lance and Hunk are making worried exclamations, panicking about how they can help.

He’s acutely aware of the heavy presences of Kolivan and Antok. They think he’s even more weak now, probably. They think he’s a joke, a mess, that Voltron can’t stand with them.

And then Kolivan says it.

“This young galra warrior has awoken one of the Blades of Marmora.”

He’s talking to Allura, answering her questioning gaze with a stoic one of his one and a cool voice.

 _Garla!_ Keith’s mind screams. _Galra warrior_.

“Galra…” Allura echoes. “...Keith...?”

Now Keith’s head is _spinning,_ he can’t even see everyone’s faces. He opens his mouth once again to explain, or perhaps to defend himself, but some sort of garbled sound tumbles from his mouth. Shiro is suddenly very close again.

He doesn’t miss the way Coran suddenly retreated. There’s a huge commotion that he can’t comprehend. He can’t _see._

A yell from Shiro cuts in and shuts it down. He drags Keith off the table and says, in a voice that’s much darker than he’s ever used amongst anyone on the team, “Coran, can we please get Keith into a pod first?”

Pod. Keith’s fuzzy mind picked up on that and his first thought was of being enclosed, trapped and unaware. After having the bomb dropped on everyone that he’s part Galra? They’ll hate him and he won’t be around to try for forgiveness. _No. No, no, no._

He descends into an immediate distress-driven panic attack. His head swirls even more, and without the exam table underneath him he suddenly feels like he’s hurtling through space. He doesn’t know what’s happening until he’s choking and crying out in shock, and Shiro is tipping him forward so he doesn’t suffocate on the vomit seeping from his mouth.

He can _feel it_ when everyone gapes at him. For a long, tense moment, the only thing Keith can hear is the sounds of his own choking and Shiro, somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him it’s okay.

And the next thing he knows, they’re alone in the infirmary.

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice says, “Keith? Are you with me? Just… try to breathe. You going to keep throwing up?”

“Don’ know,” Keith whimpers out honestly. He’s no longer in touch with his bodyl wasn’t even aware of the feeling he was going to vomit to begin with. He can’t see if he’d managed to get sick over himself, or over Shiro. All he knows is he’s ashamed, in so much pain all over, and he can’t figure out what to do about it. “Can’t… see. Can’t… Don’ know what’s…”

“Okay. Okay, breathe. Let’s see what we can do to help.”

Keith sways back and forth, gulping down air and is at least a little pleased when he doesn’t gag again. His mind is reeling, screaming about how when Shiro said “we,” he really meant just him. Everyone else left the room.

“Try to hold still,” he hears Shiro say, and then feels a small prick, and in a few moments, the pain dulls marginally, so that he can feel it concentrated in his shoulder and his head. Then he feels something soft and damp scrubbing over his face, down his chest and then his suit is being peeled away. The moment when the fabric’s torn away from his shoulder, it _burns,_ and Keith is blinded once more by white-hot pain.

“Sorry, Keith,” Shiro says. “I’m sorry. Let me wrap this, then maybe find some painkillers and it shouldn’t be as bad.”

Keith blinks in effort to regain his vision and tears start trickling down his cheeks. For that moment, he’s grateful there’s no one but Shiro with him.

Shiro wipes them off his cheeks and promises he’ll get him something for the pain.

He drifts in and out of awareness after that, listening to his heart throbbing in his ears and focusing on the feel of Shiro’s hands and the familiar prodding and tugging of gauze, antiseptics, and tape. It’s something he hadn’t felt since Earth, since the solution up until now has always been the cryopods.

Shiro steps away for a moment. Keith can pinpoint the pain in mostly his shoulder now, and traces of stickiness from blood and vomit are erased. Shiro prompts Keith to open his eyes, and when he does, he can finally _see_ his face. His expression is taut with concern and something else Keith’s hazy mind can’t identify, but he pushes something gently to Keith’s mouth, followed with water. Keith tries not to choke as he gulps down what seems to be pills.

“These painkillers should take effect pretty quickly, according to Coran,” Shiro tells him.

“C’ran was here?” he slurs.

“No,” Shiro answers, picking Keith up and bringing him back to the exam table and helps him lie back down. His body screams in protest but when his breathing grows ragged, Shiro’s hand settles in his hair, combing it back softly in an attempt at distraction.

They pass the next several moments there in silence, aside from Keith’s harsh breaths, and occasional shameful whimpers. Each time, Shiro soothes him with a reassurance and rubbing gently through his hair, tracing his hands down his face. It’s as comforting as it is foreign--something that’s too soft and coddling; reminiscent of things he knows he hasn’t felt since early childhood, and he can’t remember anyway.

Keith’s unsure how long it’s been when he realizes the pain has faded considerably, and he’s able to open his eyes and see clearly.

Shiro asks quietly, “Feeling any better, kiddo?”

Keith blinks dazedly, eyes settling on Shiro’s face and he gives a weak nod. More aware of his surroundings and his own body, he feels equal levels of embarrassment and concern at Shiro reverting to calling him a name he hasn’t used since Keith was a pre-teen. He feels an overwhelming amount of humiliation and guilt over the entire display of weakness he’s just exhibited. Not only in front of Shiro, but the entire team, Allura, Coran, and _Antok and Kolivan._

“Think you can sit up?” Shiro says again. “We’ll get you to bed as soon as you’re able.”

Keith wants to answer, “Don’t patronize me,” but his words die in his throat as soon as he tries to say them and what tumbles from his lips is, “Yeah.”

In time, Shiro gets Keith sitting up, and to Keith’s absolute chagrin, he carries him out of the infirmary toward his room. The halls of the castle are uncharacteristically silent. They’re dim, the symbolic simulation of nighttime upon them, as Shiro took measured steps, trying not to jostle Keith too much.

“Shiro, ‘m sorry,” Keith croaks, trying to look up at him, but it hurts his neck and his shoulders; he can’t. He wants to turn his face and bury it into the older man’s shoulder. With the way he’s holding him, grip so strong and his even breathing so sure. It’s a desire he hasn’t experienced in years and it makes him feel pathetic and childish and vulnerable. He doesn’t allow himself to do any such thing. He coughs once, wincing, and repeats, “I am so, so sorry.”

“Keith,” Shiro answers, as they come to a stop in front of his bedroom door. “You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I ended this here, even though I kiiiiiinda hate it and I really don’t actually want to end it here… but I desperately want to post something and I know if I tell myself I’ll make a better ending and keep going, I might never get there. So. Yeah.  
> I am greatly considering making a part two, maybe not for Whumpmas or anything, but just to finish the rest of the idea I have for this. Idk. 
> 
> I appreciate comments or kudos more than you could know! feel free to keep up with me on tumblr for anything else related!


End file.
